


Heal the Blind So I can See You

by CheyanneChika



Series: A Distressed Wrangler's Unrelated Drabbles [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America/England Feels (Hetalia), America/England Fluff (Hetalia), Blind America (Hetalia), Fluff and Angst, Implied Top America, M/M, Magic England (Hetalia)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheyanneChika/pseuds/CheyanneChika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America is blind and England has magic.  Let's think about this for a minute...OH!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heal the Blind So I can See You

England has a secret.  One he’s never told America about.

He has magic.  Under normal circumstances, hiding his magic would be next to impossible, but America, well, he’s blind, some sort of degenerative disease that made him blind a few months before they met.  England can do whatever he wants and, as long as the magic doesn’t make noise, then America doesn’t notice.

Until now. 

Until today.

After three years of living with America, watching him move with a boisterous grace and stubborn pride that hid any true feelings he might have, and two years of research, bribes to other magic users and very illegally obtained spell books that he left floating on the ceiling where America would never accidentally come across them, he had a spell to heal America’s eyes.

He would make his lover see again.

…

America is suspicious.  He is pretty, no, very certain that England is being weird. 

Not that he’s not always weird.  Him and his quiet laugh, sweet smile and utterly troublesome attitude, those are all gone.  He’s being oddly quiet of late.

And now he’s here.  America can smell his sweat.  “What’s going on?  Talk to me, already.”  He was a bit frustrated now and warming up quickly.  When the other man remains silent, he snaps out, “England!”

 “ _Oculorum sanabit, curationum en cerebrum oculos nexu sanabit_.”  In the end it was simple.  A few words in the right order and a quartz crystal in his tightly clenched fist to channel his energy.  As soon as the words stop, he stumbles forward, wrapping one arm about America’s waist and presses the warm quartz against his left eye, right eye and the center of his forehead.

America’s filmy eyes, which flew open automatically when England grabbed him, turn a hazy blue and quickly clear.  He blinks and staggers back.  England is glowing.  America pulls back sharply, striking the table with his legs.

England has magic.

England cured him.

England is beautiful.

America only looks down to see that nothing is between them before marching back into England’s arms and kissing his soft lips.  England stands frozen for a moment, then wraps his arms around America and tumbles to the floor. 

When they pause to breathe, England huffs out, “Must you always be on top?”

“Yes,” America says with an easy smirk.  “Yes I must.”

England shrugs and just goes with it.

“Besides, I wanna see you blush when you gasp my name.”

England wisely decides not to argue.


End file.
